Showing results for 2021
Making you come is like holding a firework: the Marital Benefits of Sexting
Shelby Hinte
Marriage is often thought of as having little to do with eroticism.1
I met my husband while bartending in Oakland. He applied to be the new chef. Tattooed knuckles. Chubby cheeks. Full beard.
Shore
Rebecca Entel
That summer held the moment, in real time and in my memory for several years, of something he said that I didn’t hear.
Ten Years Have Passed in Ninety Days
Madison L. Sargeant
The mushrooms I bought yesterday are moldy; the lines around my mouth have deepened. Tomorrow I am a mother for the first time.
Sarcophagus
Alice M.
It’s really Freudian, that. Turning a doctor into a parent for a few minutes. That’s why Maeve likes him.
A Brief History of Loving
Tania Pabón Acosta
In his hospital room, he handed over his phone and I called his family.
Making Weight (pt. 7)
Denny Connolly
Previously on...
Part 6 || Part 5 || Part 4 || Part 3 || Part 2 || Part 1 || Prologue
They Ate the Children First
Madeline Cash
I Googled things that bond people. Google said trauma.
Just Killing Time
Kat Saunders
We’ve sat in pot smoke-filled basements, watching boys play video games, and I’ve sipped wine with my parents on special occasions, but neither of us have been to an actual party before.
Dinosaur III
Zachary Kocanda
Ken pounded out three novelty songs on his busted up acoustic guitar, looking like a knock-off Daniel Johnston.
Normandy Hole Recipes
GL Ruffer
‘Le Trou Normand,’ I said to the Garçon, winking knowingly at him.
Vivian Maier
Katie Burke
We long to see the world from her point of view, the worker. But do not ever long to be the worker.
My Chinese Mother Snagged My Husband of 40 Years
Yvonne Liu
My mother had been on a rampage to find me a husband since I started college.
Maggie Siebert On: Hyper-morality, Transgressive Fiction, Her Collection “Bonding,” and Why She Chose to Make it Available for Free Via Twitter
Shelby Hinte
Really I think all art should be freely available
On Agency
Quinn Kelley
I’m good at getting fucked up. I’m good at having fun. Go go go. I’m best at forgetting.
the novel as a kind of organism: an interview with Tao Lin
Kristen Iskandrian
To try to allay his doubt, or figure out of it’s real, [Li] mentally consults his in-progress novel, as if it were a friend. He intuits, in an intuition described by the line you quoted, that his doubt is wrong, is habitual and self-sabotalogical.
A Fun Game for the Whole Family
Eric Dovigi
If a ghost is the impression you leave after you, then the divot you leave in your old bed is a ghost.
Soft Tissue
Arielle McManus
Within 1-3 weeks, the body will begin to actively decay. This is when the organs, muscles, and skin will liquify. The hair, bones, and cartilage will remain.
Playing Her Song
Andrew Stancek
Gratitude is not the response she expected. She smiled through thin lips, missing the hoped-for fight.
How To Unclog Your Lover’s Toilet
Misha Scott
The whole first week after moving into his Brooklyn apartment – our apartment he keeps correcting me – I’m horribly constipated.
Slung Out and Wayward
David Nutt
Gunderson could hear the vehicle’s noisy carping from eight blocks away, like a herd of wild trashcans rolling down the street.
Anti Theseus
Ian Miller
I’ll dig a pit where it can roam, feed off the aporia of my lust, wash its hooves in semen, soak in pools of piss.
John B2B Paul B2B George B2B Ringo (from Good at Drugs)
KKUURRTT
The show literally fuckin has to go on.
The Ball Dropped, Honey!
Darina Sikmashvili
Oh, absolutely a mistake to have given the wealthy Protein Bar Daddy my number.
Steady State Phenomenon in Muharraq Before
Natasha Burge
Steady State Phenomenon in Muharraq Before
This is the invention of a spectacle. The verge of fungible wealth, dirigibles
of electricity. A thunder of dust and rickshaw sermons in Muharraq
Three Poems
Andy Tran
Playin’_The_Keys
i love to dance, sing, write, chill, read
and play the keys, but sometimes, life
doesn’t allow me to hang out
and do my thing, which means
i have to divide my time into many
Winter Tangerine
Mira Jiang
Your fingers began peeling the fruit, tossing orange scraps among the dirty straw. In the right light, they could have passed for blood.